Maybe This Time
by Incomplete Stories
Summary: Sequel to Stepping into the Unknown. It's been two years since she removed herself from his life and suddenly there she is. Can a chance encounter turn into a second chance? [On Hiatus]
1. Too Many Things Left Unsaid

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 1: Too Many Things Left Unsaid**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

He stands in line at the market, his head filled with the horrors of the Silencer case; he wishes the line would hurry up, all he wants to do is just to get home, shower and climb in bed with a good book and the ice cream he's purchasing. He stands behind a short redhead who already has her items on the belt.

The cashier tells her the price and she turns toward the debit machine to swipe her card, his heart drops and the ice cream pint falls out of his hand and hits the belt with a loud thud.

"Mim-Michelle?" He catches himself before calling her by her nickname. Her hand stops mid-hair as she reaches for her bag, she turns toward him. His body is numb, frozen in place, they haven't seen each other since that fateful morning, almost two years ago. He stares at her, taking in her new appearance; she changed her glasses, they're now black cat eyes instead of her rectangular purple ones, she's dressed in more mature clothes than she used to as well. He can see the little bit of the scars left by Tara Allen, down on her forehead and it makes his heart sink even deeper.

"Hi, Reid." She says this very matter-of-factly, but to hear her call him by his last name feels just like a stab in the heart.

"Sir, it's gonna be $5.78. Sir?"

He turns his attention to the cashier for a moment, getting out his wallet to pay, when he sees her heading toward the door. He gets out a $10, drops it on the counter, grabs his bag and run after her.

"Michelle! Michelle please." She stops and he takes a second to catch his breath, he's not too sure what he's doing, but it feels like the right thing to do. "Can we talk? Please?"

"I don't think we have anything to talk about, you and I." Her voice is blank, but her words cut him like a knife, she's got every reason in the world not to want to talk to him, and after all he's put her through in their last few months together. She sighs, looking up into his pleading eyes. "I'll be at Mile's in an hour."

She doesn't wait for an answer and just walks away; his eyes follow her for a moment before she gets lost in the crowd. He won't be getting the relaxing evening he was hoping for, but maybe, at least, he'll be able to say all he's wanted to say for a very long time.

He walks in at a quarter to 7, she sits at the counter, twirling her straw around in her vanilla milkshake. He thinks about leaving for a second, he's not sure if reopening that wound is a good idea for anyone, but he gathers his courage and takes the stool next to her.

"Hi."

"Why did you wanna talk?"

She doesn't look at him, she stares at her hand as she keeps opening and closing it nervously; she's uncomfortable and she makes no effort to hide it, probably because she knows he would see right through it.

"I-I don't know," he admits truthfully. "I just couldn't let you disappear again without even trying to stop you."

He presses his index just above his right eye, despite him being officially okay according to the doctors, the headaches still sneak up on him from time to time, especially when he gets stressed and the fluorescent light of the diner makes it worst.

"You're still having headaches?" She's looking at him for the first time, she's trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, but her eyes and voice betray her and he can both see and hear her concern.

"Actually, I've been talking to a geneticist who found a regimen that seems to be working well, now I just get them when I get nervous," he admits but leaves out the part about them also happening when he feels overly emotional. He gives her a small smile as he adds that otherwise, he's supposedly at 100% both physically and mentally.

"You should put your sunglasses on." Her voice is flat again, he says he'll be fine. Despite the pain, he would much rather have her be able to see the honesty in his eyes as he speaks.

"I know I have no right to ask this, but I'd really like to just have a normal conversation with you. You have every right to hate me, I..."

"I don't hate you Reid." She passes her fingers through her hair, fiddles with the scars on scalp. He remember how angry it made him when the doctor said she was lucky to have thick hair, that it would hide them despite the fact the hair will never grow back; how can you say someone is lucky when they had an UnSub carves letters in their scalp is beyond him. He realizes how much she changed since he last saw her, back then she could barely even touch them without shedding a tear. She sighs before continuing: "I was really angry and disappointed with you for a long time, and I moved on, but I never hated you."

They both stare at their food; they can't seem to bring themselves to eat. He looks at her, she looks so different, yet her presence as the same soothing effect on him as it did when they were together. He knows it's selfish, but hearing her say that she moved on, kills him inside. For years, he thought that he would spend the rest of his life with her and now, he feels like he's losing her all over again, all he wants to do is reach over and take her hand; he wishes everything could be all right again.

"Wanna hear something ridiculously pathetic?" She says that with a joyless chuckle, her eyes locked on his, he had forgotten how strong her gaze can be. "Despite everything, my heart still sank every time I heard you guys were out on a case and I still couldn't sleep until I knew you were all safe just like when we were together. But, I guess, you already knew that right?"

"What? How could I have known that?"

She stares at him for a moment, her expression reflecting the confusion as he feels.

"Penelope didn't tell you?" His expression seems answer enough, she just continues without him replying. "Huh... That 'face cards' robbery with the big explosion two months ago... I saw it online as it was happening, I saw Morgan and J.J. and Emily, which I have to say was very much of a surprise, since I read about her death in the papers... but the thing is, I saw the explosion, I saw them, and I didn't see you and..." Her voice trails off for a moment; she fidgets with her napkin, looking at everything except him, her face reddening. "And, I couldn't bring myself to call you, you know... but, I had to know if you were okay. So, I called Garcia, long distance, all the way from Grasse and when she picked up, I begged her not to tell you, but that I needed to know if you were alive."

Her breathing is staccato at best, she's looking away from him, but he can see her eyes filling up with tears. He can hardly believe Garcia was able to withhold that information, what else has she kept from him since Michelle moved out of their apartment?

"How many times did you talk to her after... you know..."

"That was the only time, I promise." He frowns at her choice of words, adding that he was surprised she didn't keep in contact with the team, they were her friends too. "Yeah... but they're your family and when you leave someone you can't stay friends with their friends; that was one of the worst part of it, you know. With that one decision, I lost pretty much everything I held dear; my home which was also my place of work, half of my friends and you. In 24 hours, I went from living with the man I loved, being able to do what I love the most to being homeless and alone. But, I just... I just couldn't take it anymore..."

"I acted that way to protect you." He's been repeating that phrase in his head like a mantra for almost two years and now that he says it out loud it just sounds fake and rehearsed, like a bad excuse. But it's true, he adds that she had no idea what she might be in for if his headaches had been a precursor sign of schizophrenia, that he just couldn't let her life be destroyed.

"I didn't want to be protected, Reid. And no, I don't know what it would have been like, but in that moment it just felt like you didn't believe me when I said that all I wanted was to be with you, regardless of what came our way."

Her words bring back something similar she said years ago, something that changed his own feelings toward her from infatuation to love.

"'Neither of us has to face the world alone anymore.'" He utters the words without even realizing it; she nods, her throat tight, her voice straining.

"I loved you with all my being, Spencer. I wanted to spend my life with you... I thought you were the love of my life!" She sniffs and swallows with difficulty before continuing. "Heck, I was going to ask you to marry me at your 30th birthday party if you hadn't popped the question by then!"

Hearing her say his name fills his stomach with butterflies, he didn't even know that it was possible to get those a second time with the same person. It takes a moment for his brain to process the rest of the information though, and when it does, all he can answer is: "Really?"

She nods as she removes her glasses to try and dry her eyes with the palm of her hand; she smiles at him through her tears and lets out a little choked laugh.

"You'd think that, as a profiler, you'd have seen the signs!"

He smiles too, shaking his head and reminds her that she always distracted him too much for him to be able to concentrate on anything but her while they were together. She turns her head away and he knows she's blushing, some of her hair falls in her face and he instinctively reaches out and pushes it back. After the fact, he realizes what he's done and pulls his hand away quickly; he mumbles an apology as he stares at the cold french fries on his plate. She shrugs and says old habits die hard, the sad smile back on her face and he would give everything to take away all of the pain he's caused her.

He mentions that he likes the red hair on her; she says that she just decided to give it a try one morning and walked into the first hairdresser she could find and just went ginger.

"I figured after shaving my head, there weren't many barriers left for me to break."

He was about to drink from his water, but stops dead in his track, he asks if she did just say she shaved her head. She nods and says that she went bald for a month, she needed to learn to live with her scars and now, she feels comfortable enough with them, and she hasn't had any nightmares about the incident that caused them in nearly six months. He tells her he's very happy for her, that he knows how horrible nightmares can be. She then asks when he decided to grow his out again.

"I didn't really, I just kinda stopped going to the barber." He gives her that silly straight line smile with his raised eyebrows that she used to call his 'Frog Face' and he's glad to see it still makes her smile.

"You said earlier, you called Garcia from Grasse?"

She explains that after she moved out, she stayed with her friend Allison for a while and she realized that she couldn't really stay in D.C.; too many memories and with Tara's release she didn't feel safe in the district anymore. She had already placed the vast majority of everything she owned in a storage locker, so she went home to Canada for a while. After that, with some help from her father, she flew to France and enrolled in a 1 year beginner program at a perfumer school.

"It's been even better than I imagined it would be, and it's been great for business too." As she always did when they were together, she lights up as she talks about her company and all that she's creating. He makes a mental note to check her website when he gets home. "I'm actually only here to retrieve my things from storage so I can have them shipped to my place over there."

He lies and says he's very happy for her and wishes her all the best, despite the fact that all he wants to do is beg her to stay and to tell her that he knows now that he isn't going to lose it and ruin her life... that maybe they could give it another try... that he still loves her.


	2. The Aftermath

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 2: The Aftermath**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

He keeps replaying it in his mind and he's not sure how it happened. After dinner, he asked if he could walk her back to her wherever she's staying and she accepted. They walked in silence for a while, and then she asked if he's been seeing anyone; he admitted to going on one date since she left and that it failed miserably.

"It was a blind date organized by Morgan, so of course, that was just bonded to go well." He rolled his eyes and she laughed; how he's missed that laugh! "I think she was actually expecting him, so the look on her face when she saw me was... hum, interesting I think would the best way to describe it. You?"

"I've met a guy; smart, funny, caring, good looking and on top of everything, he has a 9 to 5 job!"

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

"But," she sighed, looking up at him under the streetlamp, reciting the first two lines of her favorite poem: "'One need not be a chamber to be haunted. One need not be a house.' My brain and my heart were still filled with us and I didn't give him a fair chance, I kept dissecting what he did and said and comparing to what you would have said or done."

The silence took over again, and before he knew it, they were in front of her hotel room door. She had her key card out, but neither of them seemed to want to be the one to say good night first. Finally, she said she was glad they talked, that she needed it more than she thought before unlocking the door.

"Goodbye Spencer."

And that's when it happened, in that split second, his brain yelled at him that if he allowed that door to close behind her, it would completely over; he would never see her again and she would close the chapter on him too. His entire body responded, he took a step forward, and suddenly his arms were around her, his lips capturing hers and he kissed her like his life depended on it.

Someone knocking on the passenger's window brings his attention back to the present, his head was resting against the wheel and he's pretty certain he must have a thick red line across his forehead which is probably why Derek Morgan is currently laughing and pointing at him. He gets out of the car, as the other man walks toward him.

"Reid, you give a whole new meaning to asleep at the wheel," he says, matching his steps, when he doesn't reply, Morgan stops walking and puts a hand on his arm, looking at his face. "Hey, you okay?"

"I, I made a huge mistake last night... at least... I think it was a mistake... I, I don't, I don't know." He closes his eyes, pulling at his hair.

"Wanna talk about it?" Derek wraps his arm around his shoulders, he's glad to have such good friends and if anyone can give him some insight on a girl problem, it has to be Derek Morgan.

"I kissed my ex-girlfriend last night."

The look on Morgan's face shows both surprise and disbelief, "Oh man, how did that even happen? I thought Michelle had skipped town."

"She came back to D.C. for a few days; she's officially relocating to France. We bumped into each other at the grocery store, and I... I kinda ran after her. I just... I needed to talk to her. We had dinner together, I walked her back to her hotel and, I don't know what got into me, but I kissed her. And now, I don't know what to do, I mean she's flying out tonight..."

They get into the elevator, he presses the button to their floor and, since they're alone, Derek continues their conversation.

"I can't tell you what to do, kid, that ship sailed and crashed once before, but if you think she's the one; I say you go and fight for her! It probably sounds surprising coming from me but don't you believe the people out there who you can't find the love of your life on first try, they're just bitter. My parents did, they were each others' first boyfriend and girlfriend and they were together till death did them part."

"Thanks Morgan, I guess I have some thinking to do."

They settle down in the briefing room, listening to Rossi complaining about having too much accumulated vacation time that he doesn't want; he can barely keep his attention focused on what is being said with his brain that keeps trying to bring up images from the previous night. He didn't tell Morgan the entire story; he didn't tell him that she kissed him back with equal passion or that her hands in his hair sent sparks all through his body or that he hadn't felt this alive in nearly two years, at least until she pull away stumbling over her words as she muttered that she can't put her heart through this again.

They make their way to California and he sits alone in the conference room, files taking most of the table in front of him; he's having certain difficulty concentrating but with some effort and willpower he's keeping himself under control. He reads and re-reads the files, trying to figure out a link between their victims; he nearly jumps when Rossi sits down in front of him.

"Morgan tells me that you've been using all your vacation time and personal days to go visit your mother since you joined the Bureau," says the older agent, and he just stares back, genuinely confused as to what is going on. "We were talking and we agrede that maybe it would be time for you to try something else; visiting Europe perhaps? I hear France is beautiful this time of the year."

Before he can even reply, Rossi just stand and heads toward the door; he turns before crossing the threshold and adds, over his shoulder: "You've got one week, better make good use of it."

His eyes are stuck on the doorway where his colleague just disappeared; he can't believe what just happened. First of all, the fact that Morgan revealed something he told him in confidence to Rossi, even with good intentions, doesn't sit quite right with him, and secondly, the fact that Rossi just gave him a full week of his vacation time and the rather thinly veiled recommendation to go after Michelle surprises him quite a lot. For a moment, he forgets himself and his brain is already trying to chose what the right words to say to her would be but he shakes his head, bringing himself back to the case at hand; they have a team on the loose and now isn't the time for daydreams.

As Blake and he dig through Jason Nelson's storage locker, he inquires if it's difficult to be in a relationship with someone who's on another continent; even though he doesn't actually believe in luck, he crosses his fingers in his pocket that she doesn't ask him why he wants to know which, luckily, she doesn't. Instead, she replies that it's actually not as hard as some people might think and that with Skype it's easy for them to stay in contact even when they're apart. He refrains himself from smiling, his head filling up with memories, hopes and romantic notions.

They get back to Quantico and most of the team head out as fast as their legs can carry them, having people to see or places to go; he stays behind, lying about finishing some reports before they're overdue. He sits back in his desk chair, one arm behind his head and his feet on his desk as he stares at the ceiling, considering what to do next.

He could ask Garcia to look up Michelle's new address in Grasse, but he doesn't want to give his friend false hopes; some days, he even wonders if she didn't take his and Michelle's separation harder than he did. He remembers when he told the team about it, it was probably the worst moment he could have chosen but since it was an evening for new beginnings it seemed appropriate to tell them at Rossi's pasta dinner.

They were all sitting down at the dining room table with the pastas they cooked, everyone just chatting away, having a few laughs when Derek looked up from his plate and said: "So, Reid, I'm gonna start thinking that your girl doesn't love us anymore. Where is she hiding, it feels like it's been forever since we've last seen her."

"Well, you see, there's a very logical explanation for that..." He replied, passing a hand through his short hair and resting it on the base of his neck. "...it's quite probably because she moved out approximately three months ago." The news created a commotion around the table and, for a moment, all he could hear was a chaos of sympathy and questioning as to why he didn't tell them sooner mainly coming from Garcia and Morgan. "I didn't say anything about it before because I felt like I need to work through this by myself first and also, because it happened just a few days before Emily's death, we all had our grieving to do and it didn't feel right for me to add to everyone's plate. I want to apologize for lying to all of you... I... I just needed to deal with this by myself."

After that, they started checking up on him, babying him like he knew it would happen. Garcia even came by the apartment a few times; at first, he thought it was just to make sure he was doing okay or because she felt guilty for not being there right after it happened, but after a while he realized that it wasn't the only reason, as he mourned the lost of his relationship, Penelope mourned the lost of one of her friendship.

He lowers his feet and absentmindedly reaches for the computer's mouse; he gives it a quick shake to get rid of the screensaver and rests his chin in his hand, with the other he types the address to her website. He knows he shouldn't be surprised at how much it has changed since he last checked it, but it does take him aback somehow. For the first time since she reappeared in his life, he realizes how much he's missed in those two years: all those big moments, like anniversaries and holidays, as well as the little ones like lazy Sunday afternoons or Thursday night's pasta dinners. He wonders what she did for her 30th birthday, clicking around the website as he does; he looks at her new products and he could swear he can hear her voice in his head as he reads the descriptions.

He passes a hand through his hair as he scrolls down the 'Fragrance' page, one of the names catching his attention.

"B.B.G. is a special, more masculine fragrance that will warm your heart..." The sound of his own voice surprises him and he realizes he's been reading out loud; he looks up, checking around the bullpen area to make sure no one heard, he's relieved to see that he is alone in the darken room. He turns his attention back to the screen and silently reads the rest of the description: '...with its blend of coffee, old leatherbound books, all-spice and a hint of gun powder. A fragrance worthy of a beautiful boy genius.'

His heart skips a beat and he rereads the text three times, just to make sure he is not hallucinating. She created a fragrance for him, even using the pet name she gave him in the name which means she's been thinking about him during their time apart and just like that, that little flicker of hope inside him lights itself into a roaring blaze. With shaking hands, he clicks on the 'Contact Us' link and hopes to find what he's looking for.

Luck seems to be on his side, for there it is, a return address in Grasse for customers who need to mail back their purchases for returns or exchanges and if she operates her website like she used to; that's her home address.

Now he knows what he has to do!


	3. The Unfortunate Complications

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 3: The Unfortunate Complications of Commercial Flying**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

When someone is as used as he is to flying in a private plane, it's easy to forget what commercial flights are actually like; after a shuttle flight from D.C. to New York, a two hours connection at Kennedy airport plus a hour and a half delay for some unknown reason, he finally gets to take his seat on the flight that will take him to Nice, France.

He passes his fingers through his hair, feeling more nervous with every passing minute; he never does anything impulsively and now he's flying across the Atlantic to try and convince his ex-girlfriend to take him back. He can hardly believe that he managed to step so far out of his comfort zone; he's already been biting at his lips by the time the flight attendants start the safety presentation. He fidgets as the plane takes off and tries to swallow the giant lump in his throat; no chance to back out now.

"Bad flyer?"

He turns his attention to the voice coming from the seat next to him; a short older lady, probably in her early 70s took the aisle seat at some point it seems and is now smiling at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were a nervous flyer?"

"Oh no, I was... hum, lost in my thoughts." He gives her a small smile before turning back toward the window, watching the clouds passing underneath the plane.

"Have you been to Nice before? It's such a lovely place. My husband, God bless his soul, and I went there for our honeymoon, now every year since he passed, I go back. It makes me feel closer to him."

He replies that he's actually not going to Nice and she asks where he's headed then; it's evident that she wants to talk and even if he isn't feeling very social right now, he can hear his mother's voice in his head telling him to be polite to his elders. He turns back to face her and answers that he is on his way to Grasse to visit a friend.

"...who doesn't even know that I'm coming and I have no idea how she'll react when she'll see me standing outside her front door." He adds, mumbling to himself.

"She must be a very special girl."

"I'm sorry, what?" He shakes his head, frowning. He thought for certain that she couldn't have heard that since he barely heard himself says it over the noise of the plane.

"You look just as nervous and excited as my grandson did just before proposing to his girlfriend, so I just guessed you might be going through something similar."

He passes his hand through his hair nervously and mumbles that it's not the same at all; this conversation is making him feel nauseous. He looks up at the seatbelt sign to confirm that it is off; he excuses himself and makes his way toward the back of the plane. He stands near the restrooms, waiting in line behind two other passengers, the knot in his stomach is almost unbearable; this was a bad idea, just because of a little line on her website, he just decided to fly across the Atlantic to see her, without calling, without being invited... If she had actually wanted to see him after he kissed her – Oh that wonderful kiss! - but surely she would have made the first step, right? She's always been the one the make the first steps... And now he's just going to show up on her doorstep and... that really was a bad idea... spontaneity was never his forte, what was he thinking?

He steps into the ridiculously small airplane bathroom, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling, his reflection in the mirror give an accurate representation of how he feels inside; his forehead is sweaty, his face is paler than normal which make the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent and he bit his bottom lip so much that it's now bloodied. He forces himself to take some deep calming breaths as he reaches from the brown paper hand towels, he turns on the cold water on the tiny faucet; he wets the paper and wipes his face, reminding himself that there isn't anything he can do right now but he can still just decide to spend the week at his hotel and stay as far away from her address as he can when he lands.

When he makes it back to his seat, he gets out one of his books and tunes out the rest of the world, his normal reading speed decreased by his current emotional state. He finally lands in Nice around 1:30 pm and after an hour and a half bus ride from the airport to Grasse, he finally checks into his hotel. He sets down his suitcase and throws himself down on the bed with a sigh; as he lays there he can see a beautiful blue sky and some palm tree leaves through the window, he pushes himself off the bed and looks outside. Even if this wasn't the perfume capital of the world, he could see Michelle choosing a place like this, with its vibrant colors and beautiful architecture, to reboot her life; he can almost see her sitting at the little bistro across the way from the hotel, coffee in one hand and a book in the other... just that thought makes him miss her even more.

He steps into the bathroom and turns the handles of the shower, the hot water hitting his back has an immediate relaxing effect on him. He stands there for a while just thinking about her, about them, remembering the good as well as the bad, simple things like her laugh or how she would hum all the time and how empty the apartment felt after she left or how many hours he spent trying to find her afterward. He just can't let her go like that, he came all this way and he has to try.

He steps out of the shower and dries himself up before heading to the main room; he opens the suitcase and carefully lays out the clothes he chose specifically for the occasion. He slowly gets dressed, brushes his teeth twice just to be sure. After finale verifications, he leaves his room and sets out toward his destination.

He walks up the two flights of stairs and makes his way to door 3B, he's about to knock when he hears her voice coming through the door. She's singing along to a song he's heard before, she still as tone-deaf, which makes him almost chuckle; he wait a moment, listening to a few more lines, before he can bring himself to knock:

'_And a waste of your time__  
__And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore__  
__I don't think that you even know what you're looking for_'

He takes a long breath as his knuckles hit the wooden door; the singing stops and the door opens. His heart skips a bit when he sees her; he can feel his palms getting sweaty and his lips pulling into a smile.

"Je suis désolée madame Lourmier, je..." Her expression goes through a wild range of emotions before settling for deep confusion. "Spencer...?"

* * *

**Additional Author's Note: **I do not own the rights to There's A Fine, Fine Line or to Avenue Q.


	4. Explanations and Propositions

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 4: Explanations and Propositions**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

"Hi."

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she frowns at him; he passes a hand through his hair and he scratches the back of his neck, his other hand fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. His heart is racing, he wishes she would say something but she just seems flabbergasted to see him there.

"I... huh..." He prepared for this, analyzing all possible scenarios in his head; he knows what he wants to say but why can't he just get it out? He takes a deep breath and tries to calm his nerves but to no avail. She's just staring at him, frowning even more. "I wanted to talk to you... huh... after the way I acted after dinner the other night and... huh... I didn't have your phone number so I..."

"...so you just flew across the Atlantic to apologize for kissing me?" She's looking at him with her right eyebrow raised high, her arms crossed across her chest and for a few seconds he stumbles over his words some more, not actually saying anything other than an incoherent strand of 'yes', 'well, no', 'I' and 'huh' before adding, genuinely surprised: "I would never have believed you would be able to do something that spontaneous, Spencer."

Before he can answer, a voice comes from the other end of the hall: "Est que tout va bien ici?"

He turns toward the voice, Michelle steps in front of him, as if shielding him with her body. The older woman is already halfway out of her apartment, carrying a small dog, her high heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

"Oui, oui, madame Lourmier, c'est un ami à moi des États-Unies qui a décidé de me faire une surprise. Désolée de vous avoir dérangé." She turns to him and put her hand on his back, leading him into her apartment, whispering urgently: "Inside, now!"

She quickly closes the door behind them before her neighbor can even add a word. She sighs and plops herself down for the small loveseat against the opposite wall; he stands awkwardly by the door, holding his messenger bag to him as if it was some kind of protection.

"Well, at the very least we escaped her... If she had started talking we'd still be there by New Year." She passes her hands through her hair and looks up at him as he shifts from one foot to the other, there's an awkward silence and he asks himself once again why he's doing this. He looks around the room and is a little surprised by how different this apartment is from the two she inhabited in D.C.; the pale terra cotta colored walls with very little art, the small bistro style table and the lack of bookshelves simply aren't her style but the one consistent thing is the smell and he finds himself taking a deep breath.

"I thought you said you came to D.C. to have your things shipped over so why are you still renting furniture?"

"They haven't arrived yet, it will be another few weeks." She looks at him for a moment and he can see a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she asks him if he's gonna stand there all afternoon.

He swallows hard, she said the exact same thing to him when he came to her apartment for the first time the day after their first kiss, he takes off his bag and puts it down by the door along with his shoes before making his way to the couch. Her body language changes as he sits down next to her; she tenses up, wrapping her arms around herself and biting her bottom lip, she even moves closer to the armrest, as far away from him as she can and he tries not to feel hurt by it.

"How did you find my address?"

"I looked around your website..." He speaks slowly, his smile probably a little too wide for the circumstance, but behind here, with her, makes it nearly impossible to contain it; he makes sure to keep the eye contact, just like if he was trying to calm a frightened animal. "...I... huh... I remembered that our address used to be the return address for the company so, I took a chance."

"Took a chance," she repeats, with a strange chuckle, looking down at her hands. "You changed a lot since I left it seems. Why did you really come here, Spencer?"

He has an entire speech ready in his head; he's been working on it since Rossi gave him his vacation days, making sure that every word is perfect. 'I'm here because the last two years, without you, were absolutely unbearable; I wasn't living, just merely surviving but it did give me a lot of time to think. I know, I made more mistakes then anyone should ever be forgiven for, but I'm asking for one more chance. I hurt you and I wish I could take it all back, but I can't, so instead, I'm asking you to let me spend the rest of my life making it better. There's no doubt in my mind that you're the love of my life and I just want your permission to try to win you back, because I've never stopped loving you, Mimi.' Unfortunately, looking at her gets him all tongue-tied and after a too long pause all he can articulate is: "I miss you."

"Please don't." She says, resting her head in her hands. "I... I mean, what do you want from me... You got your talk and now you show up at my door telling me you miss me. I told you last week, I can put myself through this again. I'm sorry you flew all the way over here to hear this."

She stands up, walks pass him and steps out on her patio, resting her forearms on the railing taking deep breaths. He knows her well enough to know that she's close to tears and wonders why; he thinks about putting his shoes back on before stepping outside but he realizes it's better to just follow her out now without wasting time.

He stands two steps behind her and observes the view; the small, winding streets, the vibrant colors, he feels like if he could stretch his neck a little longer he could see the Mediterranean Sea.

"It's beautiful here."

She turns toward him, hip resting against the metal railing; she looks over her shoulder with a smile. If he wasn't already all ready in love with her, the sun in her hair and that sparkle in her eyes could be enough to get him slightly infatuated.

"I know, it's like paradise." She takes one more deep breath before looking at him. "I don't think I can give what you seem to want. There's just... just too much history, you know."

He feels his heart sinking, this was a foolish idea, he knew that from the beginning; hope can be a dangerous thing sometimes. He can't hold her gaze any longer and looks down at his feet, shifting from one leg to the other, nervously.

"But on the other hand," she continues and his head jerks up, heart pounding like a drum. "I do miss having you in my life, I'm not gonna lie."

She blushes a little as she says that, but she doesn't try to hide it, she wants him to see it. Despite his profiling skills and all the psychology and body languages books in his head, she still manages to make it difficult for him to get a read on her.

"Do you think we could try to be friends again?"

It's not what he was hoping for, but at the very least, she's not against the idea of seeing him again and right now, that's a big victory. Of course he would have preferred an outcome where she would have just grabbed him by his tie, kissed him and told him she'd be coming back to D.C. with him but, he knew very well the probabilities of that happening were incredibly low. Friendship is what brought them together in the first place, so who knows where this could lead and even if they do not get back together, even if she never moves back to the US, he'll have her in his life.

"Friends sounds great."

They stay on the balcony for a while longer, sitting at a small table as they watched people walking down the street, talking about nothing in particular; she asks how his mom and the team are doing, he asks about her family and when her classes are starting again. When her stomach starts rumbling, he decides that it's probably best to take things slow and tells her he should head back to his hotel.

She walks him to the door and he's about to step out of her apartment, when she stops him.

"Just one question, how... how can you be here Spencer? I mean, your vacation time and personal days always go toward visiting your mom. Did you just fly here for the weekend or something?"

"Actually," he starts, scratching his jaw with his index finger. "Rossi gave me a week of his unwanted vacation time."

"Well then, I guess you might need a tour guide to show you around this week. So, how about I swing by your hotel tomorrow morning and we can go get petit déjeuner together?"

She barely finishes the question that he already said yes, which makes her laugh. He makes his way out of the building and takes a few steps down the street before looking back up at her balcony; she quickly moves out of view but he saw her. He smiles as he puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking again. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all!


	5. Morning in the Perfume Capital

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 5: Morning in the Perfume Capital**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

He opens the hotel room's door and meets her smiling face; she's holding up a disposable paper cup and the smell of coffee pick him right up. He takes afirst sip and already feels more awake.

"I figured you could use a cup even before we get to the restaurant." She's obviously please that her present had the expected effect.

"You know me well."

He takes another slip as she asks if he's ready to go. He grabs his messenger bag and pushes his still slightly wet hair away from his eyes before opening the door for her. She walks passed him, that faint sweet, soapy smell that always sticks to her skin tickling his nostrils and he can't help himself as he closes his eyes and that's a deep breath, a slight pinch at his heart. Friendship won't be easy, especially when all he wants to do his wrap his arm around her waist or take her hand in his, but it's worth a try.

She leads the way through the incredibly small streets of the old city; as they walk her excitement seems to grow exponentially as she shows him little things, here and there, from a store she likes to a pretty architectural detail to an alley cat bathing in the sun. Her camera in hand, one could believe that she's the tourist.

"Come on, Spencer! It's your first actual vacation since you joined the Bureau, it needs to be documented." She laughs as she tries to wrestle him into the position she wants for her picture; after a moment, he stops resisting, allowing her to use him for her pictures and the smile he gets in return is reward enough for him.

They finally make it to the little café she chose for their breakfast and decide to sit outside. He looks at her across the table and asks himself how he survived the last two years without her around; the way she laughs as she speaks, which she considers one of her most annoying quirks but he always thought adorable, is something he had nearly forgotten but to hear it again is like music to his ears.

The waiter comes around and Michelle offers to order for him, but he decides to try to do it himself in the poor, broken French he's learn during her time with her; he can actually read and write it acceptably enough, but the spoken part is far from his forte.

After their food arrives, she starts telling him about her ideas for his time here with her; he agrees with her suggestions, even if some of them are a bit less his tastes then hers, he doesn't really care, all he wants is to spend time with her, the more, the better.

"And for tomorrow, I have something special in mind!" She says, pushing the last piece of her brioche into her mouth before washing it down with a long sip of cappuccino which leaves a little bit of foam above the corner of her mouth.

"Really? And what is it?"

"Well, you can't expect to experience la Côte d'Azur without seeing Nice, so we'll head there early, spend some time around the old Nice, then for dinner there's this little place a bit outside of the downtown area that's right on the Mediterranean and you can see the entire coastline lighting up when the sun goes down and in between, well, there's no better way to work up an appetite than a swim in the sea."

"Wait, what?" His brain was already imagining a romantic dinner by water with her. "I'm sorry, I... I guess I wasn't listening, because it almost sounded like you said that we'd go swim in the sea."

She replies that she did say she had something special planned and he interrupts her by reminding her that the beach really isn't his element.

"How many times in your life are you going to be here and have the chance to swim in the Mediterranean?"

In that second, he almost answers that he wants be here as many times as she'll have him, but it's not something he can admit in the spirit of the friendship that they are trying to get back to. He knows she's trying to make sure he has great memories to take back to the U.S., because that's just how she is, trying to insure that people around her are as happy as can be and he just adores that in her. He's about to give up accept as she adds: "Okay, I agree, that was a little selfish of me, but I haven't been able to go swim since I got my new tattoo a few months back. We can find something else to do..."

He looks at her, from what he can see of the part of her legs, arms and back that are revealed by the white and blue polka-dotted dress she's wearing, her skin does seem any different then how it looked two years ago; the same ribbon on her leg with her favorite saying 'Everything is going to be all right in the end, if it's not all right then it's not the end.' and her blue fleur-de-lis between her shoulder blades.

"Can I see it?" He asks the question before realizing how it could be misinterpreted as a possible attempt at flirting. He's already halfway through an apology before she replies.

"Sorry, I can't show it to you while wearing this."

The little crooked smile she gives him and that sparkle in her eyes, as well as the implications of her words send his head spinning and his heart fluttering. Is she flirting with him or is she trying to torture him because he hurt her? He can't really tell at the moment.

"I... I guess the beach could be an... an interesting idea." He adds, quickly, staring at the bottom of his coffee cup, his voice an octave or two higher than usual.

She frowns a little and asks if he's certain; he doesn't quite trust his voice so, he nods vigorously instead. She laughs and says it's as he wishes, pushing her glasses up her nose.

After breakfast she takes him around the city, from the old watchtower to the Cathedral; they spend some time in a little market and they buy a few items and have a little picnic in a park. It feels great to just be able catch up on the two years they missed in each others' lives; it feels like they're in there own little private world.

"What did you do for the big 3-0?" She asks, laying on her back, an arm under her head as she looks up at him.

"I read three books, had a pint of ice cream and went to bed around midnight." He answers honestly, even if it's far from impressive or interesting. She looks at him, seemingly puzzled and mentions that she's surprised that Morgan didn't force him to go out, or that Penelope didn't make one of her fantastic cakes for the occasion. "They did, eventually, they just missed the date, you know, work and all... You? Let me guess, it was probably something incredible and spontaneous."

"Spontaneous, yes. Incredible, no. I had been here for about a week and a half, I hadn't made any friends yet, so I went to Paris somehow I thought that I would feel less lonely there; I took myself out to a nice restaurant and then spent a good 4 hours crying in my hotel room over how lonely I felt. So, all and all, rather pathetic." She says with a chuckle but he can tell that she's not as okay with what happened as she pretends and all he wants to do is reach out and pull her to him. "That's probably why I decided to throw myself a huge birthday party for my 31st and that one was great!"

Her email alarm rings, interrupting the conversation; she lets out a sigh as she checks it. She gives him an apologetic smile and he helps her up, asking if she needs assistance with her orders. She says no, that he's on vacation and she can't ask him to do that, but he insists and she gives in.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in her lab; as he smells some of her new fragrances, he points to one of the vials at the top of her perfume organ, asking what BBG stands for. Her eyes jerk to the bottle and she bites her bottom lip unconsciously he assumes; she quickly lies and says it is Beans, as in coffee beans, Books and Gun, because of the hint of gun powder smell.

He can't help smiling a little wilder as he takes one last look at her reddening face before turning back to the task at hand; it's good to know that even after everything, he can still have that effect on her.


	6. What Goes Around Comes Around

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 6: What Goes Around Comes Around**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

"How is that unacceptable?" She laughs from the other side of the curtain.

"I don't see why I should have to wear something like this. It's... it's..."

"It's a pair of swim trunks, Spencer, get over it. Did you think that you'd get to ogle me in a bathing suit without a fair trade?"

He replies that he has no intentions to ogle her and she just chuckles on the other side; he stares at his reflection in the dressing room's mirror and in that moment, he wishes he looked more like Morgan. She's beautiful and he looks like an awkward, anemic teenager; he passes his hands through his hair, looking away from the mirror.

"Spencer? Are you okay?" Her voice isn't playful anymore; it sounds a lot more like the tone she would use in the last few months of their relationship when she was deeply worried about him. "Can I come in?"

He agrees and she steps into the dressing room; she tries to downplay it, but he can tell she gives him a quick up and down glance before looking up at his face which makes him feel even more self-conscious.

"Are you alright?"

"I can't... wear this..." He replies, staring at the floor.

"Spencer, you don't have to." She grabs his button-down shirt off the hook and hands it to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable... I'll... I'll let you get dressed."

She seems genuinely embarrassed and flushed as she makes her way toward the curtain; he stops her, saying it's not her fault and she replies that they'll have to agree to disagree on that one. She stops short of the curtain but doesn't turn around.

"In all honesty, I was just... I kinda... I just wanted to..." Her voice drops to a whisper. "...to be that girl, you know, walking around the beach with a handsome man by her side."

"Really?" He asks, blushing as he buttons his shirt; he watches her nod as she mentions that she sure hopes he knows she finds him attractive, after all, they were together for over three years.

They actually end up at the beach anyway, mainly because he pushes for it; he even rolls up his sleeves and pants legs as a show of good faith. He feels bad for making her uncomfortable due to his personal self-esteem issues and he wants to make sure she enjoys their time together as much as he does.

She takes out two towels from her large bag and lays them down on the rocky beach, then she pulls out a pair of white swim trunks with black and pink hibiscus flowers; she puts them on, under her dress, before undoing the bow behind her neck which causes the top of the dress to fall forward, revealing a black bikini top with the same pink flower.

She was right, he is ogling her, especially her new tattoo on the left side of her ribcage; the main focal point is vintage style perfume atomizer, behind it, he recognizes the colors and design of one of her bath fizzy and in front of it is a bar of soap emitting bubbles which swirls around linking all the pieces. The colors are bright and extremely feminine, he's still doesn't quite understand why one would get something permanently etched onto their skin, but he has to admit that it suits her wonderfully.

"You like it?" She asks with a giggle and he realizes that he is half bended over to get a better view of it. He stands up quickly and she just laughs.

"It's very nice, very you."

"Well, I wanted to immortalize being able to pay my rent, all my expenses and still have money to put aside without any other income than my products for six months in a row."

They stay at the beach for a few hours; first, she playfully forces him to put his feet in the water, after a few minutes, and pictures, he's allowed to go back to their towels. He tries to read but his attention keep drifting back to her and he ends up spending most of his time watching her swim.

As he sits there a woman approaches him and asks him a question in French; he turns toward the voice to answer, only to get an eyeful of the lady's lack of a bikini top. He looks away, embarrassed, as quickly as he can and mumbles something about not speaking French; Michelle's laugh interrupts the uncomfortable moment.

"Welcome to the Côte d'Azur, Spencer!" She giggles, ruffling his hair. She grabs her towel and starts drying herself off, before slipping her dress back on over her swim suit.

Dinner is at a small fish restaurant, right on the water as she described; the menu is simple, mainly just a large bucket filled with ice and fishes from which you just pick what you want. They're sitting on the patio, their table right by the railing; the soothing sound of the waves hitting the rocks underneath them along with the view makes the entire thing rather breathtaking. She tells him that she had a great day, that she's glad he's here; he's not sure if she would be so honest without two glasses of wine in her system but he's ready to take it regardless. He tells her that he's happy he decided to come here and that he hadn't consciously realized how much he missed just having her around; he knew that he missed being in a relationship with her, but he hadn't thought that simply missed being with her period.

The rain starts as the bus approaches Grasse and it's pouring by the time they get off; they run in the rain all the way to her apartment building. They're both drenched by the time they get to her door; he tells her that he should head back to his hotel and she protests, telling him she won't let him walk 25 more minutes through that storm.

"Bathroom is right here, towels are in the closet, I'll check if I have something that can fit you."

He gets two towels and makes his way toward the bedroom where she disappeared; he hands her one and asks her how she's surviving without a bathtub, especially since he can clearly remember her taking hour-long baths at least three times a week. She laughs and retorts, teasingly, that if her memory serves her right, the only problem he ever had with her hour-long soaks was that his legs were too long for their tub and that he couldn't comfortably stay in with her for the entire time.

She points him to some clothes resting on the corner of the dresser and tells him to go change out of his wet clothes. She takes a pillow from her bed and some blankets and brings them to the loveseat; he comes out from the bathroom wearing one of her too large t-shirts she usually sleep in and pajamas pants that are about 4 inches too short with little penguins frolicking in the snow on them. He thanks her for the dry clothes and for preparing the loveseat for him.

"Spencer, you're 6 foot 1, I'm 5' 4"; you take the bed, I'll take the loveseat."

He protests but she insists and after a while they end up making a compromise.

They lay there on their sides, facing away from each other, trying as best as they can not to accidently touch each other. Neither of them talks, the awkward silence hovering heavily over them. They've probably been laying there for an hour and he's unable to sleep; he can tell from her breathing and her lack of movement that she is still awake too. He could just reach over and take her in his arms yet he's never felt further away from her.

He can feel her stirring behind him, after a moment he rolls over to his other side only to find her looking at him; she seems nervous, her face in an indecipherable expression even for him. They stay like this for a while, just looking at each other; his hair falls in his eyes and he doesn't want to move to push it back, in fear that it might ruin the moment. She frowns a little, like she's arguing with herself and before he can really register what's going on, her hand comes out from under the blanket and very delicately, her fingers brush his hair back behind his ear.

Her hand rests on the base of his neck, her thumb on his jawbone; he does his best not to shiver at the contact, his eyes never leaving hers. She bites her bottom lip before, slowly, very slowly, moving her face a little closer to his, it's like she's giving him a chance to pull away; as if he could when with those big brown eyes staring into his soul. Her eyes flutter close as her lips press against his; his heart beats so fast it feels like it might explode, it's like he just let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding since the last time she was in his arms.

Instinctively he reaches for her waist with shaking fingers, his brain is trying to overanalyze the situation, trying to remind him that it might be the wine that's making her act this way, but he doesn't let it. Although, for a moment, he wonders if he's dreaming or if it's really happening; she gasps and whispers his name when his hand rests on the bare skin of her lower back, pulling her closer to him. After that, everything becomes a blur of touches, shallow breathing and sweet nothings murmured in the dark.

Her fingers trace lazy patterns on his abdomen which makes his muscles tense at the touch, her deepening breaths tickling his skin and he wonders how comfortable she can be with her head resting on his bony shoulder. He's holding her a little too tight and he knows it, but he's afraid that if he lets go, even a little, she'll simply disappear. Her hand leaves his skin and passes through her hair; she closes her eyes as she sighs.

"We just got ourselves into a big, ol' mess, didn't we?"


	7. Emotional Rollercoaster

**Maybe This Time  
Chapter 7: Emotional Rollercoaster**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is third part of my story arch and takes place close to two years after the events of **Stepping into the Unknown**. It will follow the case-line of Season 8 but might branch away in the future.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle, though.

* * *

The next day is spent trying to figure out what they want to do with this new situation; Michelle is still reticent to the idea of getting back together, especially now that they don't even live on the same continent anymore. After nearly 20 hours of discussions and questioning, they come to a decision; they will spend the next few days doing whatever feels comfortable for both of them. There's only one rule; honesty, utter and complete honesty.

They sit at a small table outside a gelato shop, she's laughing at his retelling of the prank war he had going on with Morgan when a tall, black haired man with glasses walks up to their table. He's dressed in what Spencer has come to acknowledge as French fashion; a scarf, beige khaki pants and a light, white button-down shirt. Michelle has her back to him and he startles her by resting his hand on her bare shoulder; jealousy stirs inside Spencer like a long forgotten monster rising from the deep.

"Xavier?" She says, her breath a bit short from the surprise, a hand resting over her heart that's probably beating at a hundred miles an hour. "Tu m'as fait la peur de ma vie."

The newcomer apologizes to her in French and without an invitation or even asking if it's okay; he just pulls a chair and joins their table. His dislike for the man grows with the seconds, but for Michelle's sake, he tries to keep his cool; she turns to him with a tiny apologetic smile.

"Xavier, je te présente Spencer. Spencer, this is Xavier."

"Ah! The ex-boyfriend! Michelle told me a lot about you." Xavier exclaims, in a thick French accent, his hand extended; his grin makes him uncomfortable for a reason he can't quite explain.

Spencer bites back a sarcastic remark, something to the effect that he never heard anything about him and simply says it's a pleasure to meet him as he shakes the man's hand. He sits there, mostly silent, as the other man talks to her about their upcoming school year. Spencer's jaw is clenched as tightly as it can be and he can't help but list their differences in his head; he's taller than Xavier and his hair is longer, which Michelle always said she prefers, but the other man is obviously a lot more confident than he is and surely a lot more charming than he'll ever be.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What was your question?" He can tell the other man addressed a question to him, but he was so deep in his thoughts that he has no idea what it was.

"I said, I can't imagine why someone would choose to work for FBI. It must be a hard line of work, all that travelling and long hours, especially when you have someone like this beautiful girl waiting for you at home, not the mention the danger to yourself and the ones you love. Why would anyone want to put themselves through that?"

Before he even has time to start articulating his reply, Michelle mentions how impressed she is at what he and his team do and how honorable it is to be able to be selfless enough to put one's life on the line for the good of a perfect stranger. To anyone else, her tone would sound normal, calm even, but he knows her well enough to pick up every little specks of frustration in her voice; that man doesn't seem to realize that with his poorly veiled attempt at insulting him, he also insulted a few others of Michelle's closest friends. She makes an excuse and says that they have to go, that they have plans for the rest of the afternoon.

As they walk away, she apologizes for Xavier's behavior, saying that she never saw him act that way before. He shrugs it off and says that he obviously is jealous that she's spending time with him; she sighs and agrees it might be the reason, since he is, after all, the reason why Xavier and her didn't make it out of the gates but that it's still not a reason to be so rude.

"I... I can understand why he did it, since I felt the same way." He normally wouldn't have admitted this, but in light of their new agreement of complete honesty, he figures it's better to let her know.

"You felt jealous?"

He nods, giving her his trademark 'Frog Face'; she blushes a little with a smile. She reaches up, her hand rests on the back of his neck, pulling him down toward her; she kisses him quickly but intensely.

This kind of kisses happen a few more times during his last few days in Grasse, along with light touches of their hands as they walk. One afternoon he actually wraps his arm around her waist and she lets him; they make love one more time while he's there. Those images are still running through his mind as they stand in line for him to check in for his flight back to the States; her demeanor is sadder than she admits despite the rule she made for them but he doesn't say anything about it.

After check in, they stand in the public area neither one of them able to find the right words for the situation. He doesn't want to go up the stairs that will lead him to the security check point, he doesn't want to leave her; he even comes close to asking her to just go back to the US with him although he knows how unfair that would be. In a few hours, she's going to be so far away and all he'd have to do is miss his flight to have a few more hours with her, but as he thinks about ways to justify that his brain reminds him of a promise he made Gideon years ago, about never missing a flight again. He checks his watch; he really needs to get going.

"I don't think I can postpone going through security any longer." He sighs, passing his hand through his hair.

She nods and stands on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, his closing around her waist automatically, pulling her to him with all his strength; her nose tickles his neck and her uneven breath tells him she's crying before he feels her tears against his skin. It brings tears to his own eyes as she sobs silently against his shoulder; he uses her distraction to reach in his pocket and dropping its content into hers.

When she pulls away, she dries her eyes and apologizes for getting so emotional; he pushes her short hair away from her forehead, he kisses her scar before kissing her lips. She takes one last picture of him and tells him she'll mail him copies if he'd like; he says he's still at their old address and that he'll text her when he lands.

He starts heading toward the stairs that will lead him to security; he's a few steps away from the top when turns to look at her one last time. She waves at him and puts her hand in her pocket, even from where he is he can see her confusion as she finds something that wasn't there a few moments ago; he watches her pull it out, her hand flies to her mouth and he can tell she's crying again.

She looks up at him as she puts his mother's bracelet back around the wrist it should never have left. She blows him a kiss, her eyes filled with tears; he mouths out the three small words that he's been wanting to say all week and his heart jumps as she mouths them back to him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is last chapter for a few weeks; I will be taking a short hiatus due to the upcoming Holidays that will render me laptop-less for a little while. I wish you all wonderful Holidays and I hope to see you all in January for the continuation of Spencer and Michelle's story.


End file.
